


Connections

by williamTspears



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Drabble, I'm not sure where this came from, Other, Very mild sexual themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 12:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8285467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamTspears/pseuds/williamTspears
Summary: A triple drabble and a bit on Eric's encounters with the women of Dispatch, and later the women of London, his perspective on emotional connections and inevitable fate.





	

Connections were fleeting, a damned game of false closeness and blind ignorance. Everybody died alone, no matter how they lived, the real matter was whether they kid themselves into believing otherwise. So many of the women he met did. They loved him, for the night, he chose them carefully. Pretty things, pure things, so easy to convince. He was strong, he was tall, surly and trustworthy, an experienced man. It was hard for them to believe he was truly so callous. Hard for them to believe he wasn't truly smitten with their charms under his rough exterior. Pretty things, pure things, arching their backs and clawing their bedsheets, bliss at this connection, bliss in his steady hands. He craved it too, the lust and the intimacy, as intermingled as their bodies. Sweet, brief escape, an addictive peak. During this, they were not alone. He was not alone. But he didn't love them. He couldn't. He stole the prize and then threw it away once he was done. This was the way it had always been and always would be. To love them would be to trick himself into thinking they meant anything, that this meant anything. Connections were fleeting, at best. He was numb, now, to their shock when they realised he wasn't going to stay. Their faces paled, betrayal clouding their eyes, expressions still frozen in a pleasant smile, paused in disbelief and reluctance to process that he was done with them. They were dead to him, after that, he didn't care for repeat performances.

It made it so much easier, when he turned from kissing to killing, all this practice. Charmed, trusting, ultimately damned by his true intentions, faces frozen in that sweet glimmer of surprise before that betrayal set in. Only difference was it couldn't now. They were dead, and he'd taken their souls, the worst sin a reaper could commit. But it was the same shit as always. Everybody died alone.

So it would be better if Alan never died at all.

**Author's Note:**

> This was more or less inspired by his first interaction with Ronald, where he tells him that he already 'ate' the woman Ron was hoping to court, but not entirely. I'm not really sure where the urge to write it came from.


End file.
